shit city, but make it nice

 

creativity among the chaos

big BIG BIG ups to artists who somehow keep on creating during this unrelenting time of covid19 and chaos. 

Today I'm listening to Tacoma's very own ILLFIGHTYOU.

Bandcamp here: https://illfightyou.bandcamp.com/

Earlier this week I checked out the National Boylesque Hotline show online. It was a hoot! Performers all along the spectrum of masculine, femme, gender fluid. A person in a gorilla suit performed on a rooftop in Tucson. Thrilling vignettes from Seattle's own amazing Waxie Moon and Faggedy Randy. New to me Tito Bonito. All hosted by mustachio'ed Ernie Von Schmatt.

And Michele Obama favorite Sassyblack is back with new music.

the dialogue

Converge Media and King County Equity Now held a three-hour town hall the other evening. Featured speakers included Nikkita Oliver, Marcus Green of South Seattle Emerald, and King County Council member Girmay Zahilay, as well as Mayor Durkan. 

What an opportunity for 206 citizens to listen, learn and contribute. I hope it was the first of many. 

the swirl

Voicelessness and despair aside--snarky I know--it's been an insanely busy week.
Last Thursday I had the pleasure of ushering with a good friend on opening night for Homo for the Holidays. It's a deliriously demented and good-natured drag show featuring Ben DelaCreme and the DeLouRoue troupe of performers. This was my third year and probably the best so far. Cookie--call me. Mmmph.
The next night was a friend's holiday party, neighbors hanging out over Prosecco and treats. I made some new friends and may have a date to learn how to make bagels.
After that came a double-Xmas party-whammy. First a corporate affair down in Pioneer Square. A tad underwhelming but generous. Points deducted for someone's plus-one who wouldn't shut up about penis. (Seriously?) Then, thanks to Zipcar, a quick jaunt out to Bothell to a friend's annual bash. Catch-up time with old pals, a couple of Miller High Lifes, and out the door.
Sunday--you guessed it, more! Back to HftH, but this time with friends and a front row table. We sipped Tin Table cocktails and enjoyed the show.
Monday an after-work happy hour and some of the town's best nachos with a former employer and co-workers. My liver is begging for mercy at this point.
I have a couple days' break and then bunch of friends gathering for Dina Martina, a certain teen-ager's ballet recital, and then a Hannukah bash.
I feel lucky and tired but mostly lucky.
*
On a more somber note, a good pal is struggling in the most profound way. It's a matter of waiting and supporting. I'm scared.

we're in the time

We're in the time I like somewhat best.
Rain. Cool weather. Clouds. Mist. A chilly humidity (save for the Pineapple Express that swept through a few days ago).
All variations of precipitation, and the neighborhood air smells of sodden leaves and soaked, rotting bark, earthy and fecund.
You know the true PNW'ers. We turn our faces to the leaden sky, breathe deeply, and smile.

seen at a ballard bus stop

and more new construction

In other news, this charming structure is now under my care. I have a lot of waterproofing, insulating and installing to do yet, but the bones are there and I couldn't be more excited to get started.
*
And, we have had rain the past few days. After a summer of prolonged heat and fires and smoke, it is most welcome. The air is fresh again. The trees breathe. And I relax into the gentle thrumming.

dranks

It's been fun checking out my new neighborhood.
In less than a week I've been in 5 bars, a pizza place, 2 thrift stores, and a couple of galleries. And this is just the beginning, if my liver holds out.
Let's start with the bad news. The pizza place was a big disappointment. Overpriced soggy pie with a weirdly salty tomato sauce, attitudinous servers--carded twice on a Wednesday night!?--irritating soundtrack--I doubt I'll go back.
It's a competitive neighborhood, and some of the bars shone with personality.
Clever Dunnes is an Irish pub with TV's showing whatever sporting event is going on, a rock-heavy soundtrack, and a boisterous bartender who was quick with drinks, food advice, and some light kidding. Great for MLB and a veggie burger.
I've been in Redwood a couple times before. Not a fan of the taxidermied animal heads but the lighting is dim and the booths are comfy and the price was right for a couple of Olympias on tap ($3 I think?). Not a fan of the indie soundtrack but the bartender was prompt. Weirdly, the door guy was already carding people at the tender hour of 7 p.m.
Bait Shop may be my favorite of the bunch. It's busy and loud, but somehow there's always a spot to be found. The server this night was funny and cool and brought drinks quickly, even as our little group expanded. Every table around us was packed with people having a good time, and my rye Manhattan was perfect.
Corvus was new to me. I didn't love our table by the door, and the crowd was oddly diverse--a group of serious-looking Asian men in suits, couples on quiet dates, a rowdy threesome at the bar--but the server was quirkily friendly, and brought out delicious cocktails and a plate of hot salty fries to stave off impending hangover.
DeLuxe is also an old favorite, and didn't disappoint on an after-midnight stop. The bar seemed stacked with regulars, drinks came out fast, and the bartender dutifully helped a friend get over a bout of hiccups.
Kessler's was my last stop this week, when I stopped en route to art walk for a beer and some Thursday night football. This may be a go-to for sporting events--fast, efficient bartenders, hometown crowd, and low prices.

a scare

So a creeper followed me off the bus the other night. It wasn't super late--9.30pm. I'd had a fun night of happy hour and pop-up Please Maid Cafe and was on my way home, on a bus I don't ride too often but which stops at a quiet corner near my place. So I exited, and he did too, wearing a surgical mask and ballcap and weirdly large coat. Realizing it was just him and me on a quiet dark street, I got a bad feeling, and waited at the bus stop to see where he'd go. When he lingered, and then came back to the stop, approaching me, I told him to get going, go away.
Upon which he said quietly, Don't lose your life to me.
Upon which I lit out for home.
That's right, run he called. I didn't look back until I was past my apartment building.
*
Yeah I was shaken up, unsure whether this was malevolence or mental illness or something in between. In the moment, it didn't matter. I listened to my gut and got the hell out of there. I talked to an SPD officer yesterday and he admitted there wasn't much the cops could do, or could have done had I called 911. It's not a crime to say dumb shit. It's not a crime to be a weirdo rolling around in a surgical mask. The reality is we all have to keep an eye out and listen to our guts.
And, I'm glad I'm okay but I am so sick and tired of dealing with harassment. Would this wack job have approached a lone male? Watch the "Master of None" episode called "Ladies and Gentlemen." Women know. But until a guy says it--and honestly, probably until a white guy says it--no one's really going to listen. And until Seattle starts dealing with its homeless/mental illness problem--Man in Tree anyone?--nothing's going to change.

new muzik

So I saw Sir Mix-a-Lot at Nectar last night and I have to say he wasn't the highlight (sorry Mix) although he was fresh and I loved seeing him raise the 12 flag at the Seahawks/Panthers game last October. Fly Moon Royalty was the second opener and imma say right now they have evolved and grown over the past couple of years into a fun, funky, dare I say soulful group. The Nectar crowd was a little weird--a lady in a red lace dress wanted to fight me, the creepy-dude factor was high--but all in all it was a classic hip hop night--garage doors flung open, lots of dancing inside, plenty of room to chill out on the patio.
*
New music (to me) has come to my attention.
First, Jef Barbara. Who dis? I intend to find out more but for now check Jf's bandcamp and enjoi.
Also, Gangbé Brass Band du Bénin.
I'm really hoping these performers make it to the USA sometime soon.

shizz getting real

My city is going through its share of changes, most of them not-so-hot.
Tens of thousands of people moved here last year, my old hangouts and playgrounds are full of woo girls and brogrammers and boring, rich jabronis (sour grapes, maybe, but it feels like the truth) and beloved institutions are being savaged by developers by the week. Daily I step over the sleeping homeless--one guy camps out at the heating vent near the Mar-Queen, another by the UPS Store, and violence lurks everywhere. Last week in the ID I came across a corner store festooned with police tape (the clerk was stabbed). Around the corner, a shoving and shouting match. Three blocks up the hill from my place, a man begged the cops to shoot him (and they did). Today, an hour before I ran past, the SPU campus was on lockdown.
Should I worry?
Is it simply life in the mad city?

g-g-g-orillaaaahhhhhzzz

It's that kinda day, time for super cool smoove and brain-electrifying beats.

nye eve

I spent New Year's Eve eve at a Digable Planets reunion show. The show felt like the Seattle I love--a full house, laid back hip hop, friends and a good crowd and hanging out and dancing. A ton of hip hop heads from the 206 were there. Ish presided over the bongos. The Seattle Times gave it some space.
A couple of oddities--during the show, two guys got into a fistfight at the front of the first balcony, but security was there and escorting them out within 30 seconds. And to be sure, the venue didn't make a whole lot of sense--due to demand, it was moved from the Neptune to the strange old Moore Theatre, with its narrow rows of hard fixed seats and two nosebleed balconies. However, it's age and eccentricity make it a delightful place to explore, find hidden bathrooms and the intimate downstairs bar where denizens of the green room pop in and out. Happy NYE everyone. Be cool like dat.

say whuuuut

My massage person yesterday was the much-dreaded Talker. She asked if I was comfortable (lying face down with the warmer on, I said yes), if I had big weekend plans (oh god, I thought, hesitating--do I say don't talk to me, please don't talk to me--and finally said, mmhmm) and then she said boy, I hope the weekend will be nice. I elected not to answer. The silence felt awkward at first, then less so, and then I slipped into a sort of meditative peace. At the end, I tipped generously and moved back into the world with a deliciously-relaxed ease.
I felt similarly at peace on Thursday night. A friend and I volunteered as ushers with Homo for the Holidays' opening night. We helped set up chairs, direct people to will call and the bathroom, checked hand stamped, and pick up empty glasses. In between we sat in the back and enjoyed the two-hour show, a heady mix of burlesque, comedy, parody, and sheer talent. It was my first time seeing Cherdonna (!!). Not to mention, a sexy Santa striptease, delicious temptations Candy and Cookie, and the selfie-obsessed pronouncements of Waxie Moon as the Sugarplum Fairy. The "Uptown Funk" rip-off was amazingly en pointe. It felt so good to laugh and cackle and get a little scared of the Grim Reaper and admire the jaw dropping physiques. I walked down from the Hill feeling happy and comforted. Not all is lost in the 206.
*
Yesterday I watched "Tangerine," and fell in love. What story-telling! All in dialogue and raw acting.
*
And today this yoga video, somewhere between vinyasa and yin yoga.

life goals no asterisk

Traveling alone is such a fertile time for me, for reflection and decision-making.
On this last trip I came up with some directions or goals or what-have-you:
--Stay positive (think of the nola guy who lost everything to Katrina, think of the woman who lived in a cabin in NC for 2 years with her husband and 2 kids waiting to return, both of them radiating enthusiasm for life)
--Hang with good people (no more wasting time with those who have agendas or aren't nice)
--Be of service (keep volunteering, keep listening and noticing)
--Do more things that contribute to happiness (no backing away from the h-word, no getting complacent or smug or judgey, be honest and say what you mean)
Well anyway all this said, I came home and nearly immediately got my feelings hurt, picked a fight with a friend over text no less, snapped at my fella. They wouldn't be goals if I was already there but the road looks long and I will have to keep this all front of mind, tattooed on my forearm or something.
Or something.
*
I saw at least a half-dozen establishments last week with a sign that says "Be nice or leave."
*
Lots of people say "asterik" instead of "asterisk," I'm sure there's a linguistic reason.
Kind of like "mute point."

fly

So I met one half of Fly Moon Royalty over the weekend. I've seen them perform around town on occasion. Fresh.
*
Sad news from a friend today, of another fallen parent. Two friends have lost their fathers in the past six months. I know the deep gash of hurt and shock. It's a journey you make alone, despite the presence of lovers and family and friends. You must learn to survive without the parent. You must go on without the parent. And eventually you can thrive, without the parent.
*
Starting to mend. This has been a patience-testing voyage for sure. And all I can do is keep on, keep calm, and heal. 

hott city

It's been hot in Seattle. Hot and dry after a non-winter. We've had 80-degree days and it's only May.
People here get sun-crazy. On the train ride home last night, the guy behind me spent most of the trip on his phone, trying to get a ride from whatever station was coming up next, all conversation conducted in a loud urgent monotone. Across the aisle, two pairs of nerds in My Little Pony backpacks loudly debated Simpsons versus South Park. Merciful arrival at Westlake, transfer to a bus, where a contingent of drunk, still-drinking men lay across the back seats and talked belligerently, so much so that the driver got on her scratchy intercom and asked them to knock it off. Which of course made them more irate, and scream even louder. The guy sitting in front of me turned around to ask me for a dollar. Seriously, dude? I declined. One of the angry men lurched forward, yelling for the driver to let him off the bus and calling her a bitch.
I looked outside at the hazy moon and wished for rain.

new art

I put up new art this week by John Malta. Found it at Flatcolor's April art walk. Gosh, this picture makes me happy. I'm running out of wall space but--first world problems, somehow I will go on.
*
Uncertainty on so many fronts. I worry that the climate is fucked and as humans, repeatedly and enthusiastically shitting where we eat, so to speak, we kind of deserve whatever is coming. Kids don't, and they're the ones who will be around to clean up our mess. So much violence and hate. I try to balance the news with funny stuff (Broad City, holla!) and creative stuff. Hence the new art, and also because it scratches some itch, apparently. Closer in, I puzzle over a familial relationship that I wish was stronger but just isn't, and I have no idea what to do. The new shrink wants to work on intimacy and intellectually I guess I want to but realistically, no, the walls are working for me just fine, thank.
*
Busysmartypants is making a go of it on Twitter. Lots of cool cats and interesting chats happening there, vs the smarmy brag-fest of facebook. I'm no Twitxpert but I'm feeling my way around. Check me out, say hi, heckle, share, whatever.

the big red 9

I read at open mic on Thursday, though I didn't want to, especially. What I read didn't get laughs where I thought it might, so clearly I have work to do. The vibe was odd, too, perhaps due to the full moon? The March full moon is known as the full worm moon.
Lunch with a good friend on Friday, followed by beach time with Ms Hammy. Yesterday, a leisurely morning (which can be anxiety provoking)--and then a long bus ride north, with stops at a brew shop, an Ethiopian market, a retail 420 shoppe, and then an afternoon helping a friend move a mountain of wood chips, interspersed with beer breaks and tossing around
a tennis ball for tiny terrier Jack to fetch. We finished the evening at the Viking, with pickle chips and pitchers of Rolling Rock. On the walk home, this enormous glowing red 9 loomed overhead.

new year's revolutions

So here we are in 2015 and it feels both fresh and familiar.
The days are surely getting longer, aren't they?
It's been a tough start. Tbh, I'm feeling lost, anxious, fretful, not quite sure where I belong.
Who's my tribe? What the hell am I doing with myself?
I rang in the new year with good people, partied late and slept late and enjoyed a brisk sunny afternoon restorative walk. The next day dawned misty and cold and I went to a friend's dad's funeral, sat among long-time friends and contemplated life and loss and love. I heard the priests talk about God and Heaven and I wondered, do people really believe this? I did, for a time. Can I begrudge them the small comfort of believing their loved one has passed on to dwell with others who have gone before?
I think I can. This fantastical belief, against all facts and sense, it serves as an insulation from the reality, that life is short and difficult and exhilarating and we'd best spend our time not listening to some tired old man's querulous ideological interpretations of mythological deities, but instead, helping each other, taking care of each other, loving each other, finding and bringing what joy we can during our brief awake time on the planet.
*
Then I go get coffee from ETG and find the front door window covered in plywood. A man broke in at 11.30pm Saturday night, and is on security camera rifling through the cash register, making away with a couple of rolls of quarters. 11.30pm on a Saturday night in Fremont--party central for much of twenty-something Seattle, and no one stopped or called the cops? Apparently someone else happened along and went inside too, to poke around. No coffee was stolen, none of the delectable pastries, not the enormous Kitchen Aid or the espresso machine. The antique mall was targeted recently too, the barista told me. A man in a trench coat walked out with a bearskin rug. Someone else made off with several of her rings. For crying out loud, Seattle, what is happening to us? Who the hell are we?